


it was (always) meant to be

by loverboyera, lovetears, mackdizzy



Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF, dont even DARE., this is not rpf this is not real person fiction.
Genre: Bittersweet Ending, Caring Technoblade (Video Blogging RPF), DADSCHLATT YEAHHHHHH, Dream is even worse!, Exiled TommyInnit (Video Blogging RPF), Fake Character Death, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Fictional, Hurt/Comfort, Hybrid Jschlatt (Video Blogging RPF), Hybrid Wilbur Soot, I can't find a tag, Jschlatt is Toby Smith | Tubbo's Parent, M/M, Manberg-Pogtopia War on Dream Team SMP Spoilers (Video Blogging RPF), Not RPF, Post-Manberg-Pogtopia War on Dream Team SMP (Video Blogging RPF), Ram Hybrid Toby Smith | Tubbo, Schlatt is terrible and awful, Sleepy Bois Inc Angst, Sleepy Bois Inc as Family, Sleepy Boys, Sleepy Boys Inc - Freeform, Techno's got his chat, Twins Wilbur Soot & Technoblade, Wilbur Soot and Technoblade and TommyInnit are Siblings, Wilbur Soot is Not Okay, Work of fiction, content warnings not tagged but will be at the beginning of each chapter, fake dating but its not healthy, sleepy boys incorporated
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-21
Updated: 2021-03-12
Packaged: 2021-03-17 18:02:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,585
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29596650
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/loverboyera/pseuds/loverboyera, https://archiveofourown.org/users/lovetears/pseuds/lovetears, https://archiveofourown.org/users/mackdizzy/pseuds/mackdizzy
Summary: 𝘏𝘦 𝘴𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘥𝘪𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦, 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘓'𝘔𝘢𝘯𝘣𝘦𝘳𝘨. 𝘏𝘦 𝘴𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘥𝘪𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦, 𝘢𝘧𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘚𝘤𝘩𝘭𝘢𝘵𝘵 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘢𝘭𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘺 𝘨𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘸𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥𝘯'𝘵 𝘣𝘦 𝘢𝘣𝘭𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘤𝘭𝘢𝘪𝘮 𝘞𝘪𝘭𝘣𝘶𝘳'𝘴 𝘥𝘦𝘢𝘵𝘩 𝘢 𝘷𝘪𝘤𝘵𝘰𝘳𝘺. 𝘏𝘦 𝘴𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘥𝘪𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦, 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘣𝘦 𝘴𝘪𝘵𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘪𝘯 𝘗𝘩𝘪𝘭𝘻𝘢'𝘴 𝘩𝘰𝘮𝘦 𝘸𝘩𝘪𝘭𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘮𝘢𝘯 𝘸𝘩𝘰 𝘨𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘩𝘪𝘮 𝘭𝘪𝘧𝘦 𝘵𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘴 𝘵𝘰 𝘱𝘭𝘢𝘺 𝘧𝘶𝘭𝘭 𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘴𝘦 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘨𝘩𝘰𝘴𝘵𝘴 𝘰𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘤𝘩𝘪𝘭𝘥𝘳𝘦𝘯 𝘩𝘦 𝘬𝘯𝘦𝘸 𝘺𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘴 𝘣𝘦𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘦.canon-divergent, “fix-it” fic of sorts, set after L’manberg’s explosion. Ex-dead men, Ex-husbands, Ex-ile, oh my!  Wilbur centric, but you’ll hear plenty from nearly everyone.[FICTIONAL / NOT RPF]
Relationships: Alexis | Quackity/Jschlatt, Alexis | Quackity/Jschlatt (Past), Clay | Dream & TommyInnit (Video Blogging RPF), Floris | Fundy & Toby Smith | Tubbo, Floris | Fundy & TommyInnit, Floris | Fundy & Wilbur Soot, Jschlatt & Toby Smith | Tubbo, Jschlatt/Wilbur Soot, Technoblade & TommyInnit (Video Blogging RPF), Toby Smith | Tubbo & TommyInnit, Toby Smith | Tubbo & Wilbur Soot, Wilbur Soot & Technoblade, Wilbur Soot & Technoblade & TommyInnit & Phil Watson, Wilbur Soot & TommyInnit, many of these irl names are not used as this is not rpf, sleepy boys bay bee!
Comments: 10
Kudos: 94





	1. business is business and business runs in the family

**Author's Note:**

> Hello to my lovely, lovely, DSMP fic reading family! 
> 
> I've missed you guys, and I'm sorry for my absence, but I've been churning out something beautiful that I hope will tide you over. Myself (@mackdizzy), @lovetears, and @loverboyera are working on a transitional roleplay-to-fic piece that we are very, very excited to share with y'all. Currently being written, but the ending is all planned out! This is going to be one crazy, long, ride, so buckle down and get ready for the fun!
> 
> I have "chosen not to use archive warnings", as this fic will contain some decent violence during the exile arc, but seeing as I have not yet decided whether or not it warrants that 'graphic depictions' tag, I will let the readers decide for themselves. IDDNE (immortal dream do not eat). It will be thoroughly tagged pre-chapter like all other content warnings, anyway.
> 
> [FICTIONAL / NOT RPF. Fictional characters and settings from the Dream SMP. If content creators state they are uncomfortable with the fic, it shall be removed. Please do not bombard the CC's with this fic, though.] 
> 
> Lastly, a little breakdown of who's done what, for your commenting ease!
> 
> @loverboyera writes Wilbur's POV, direct action, dialogue, and text messages. Thusly, she's responsible for the bulk of this fic, so send her lots of love! She also does Tubbo's direct action, dialogue, text messages, and POV (if / when it is seen).
> 
> @lovetears writes direct action, dialogue, text messages, and POV (if / when it is seen) for Tommy, Phil, and Quackity, and I (@mackdizzy) write direct action, dialogue, text messages, and POV (if / when it is seen) for Techno, Schlatt, Fundy, and Dream (though the blob man is in part a collaborative effort). Additionally, I work on formatting the fic for Ao3, which basically means splicing up the text in the right order and adding / changing some POV things to make it more "fic"-ish.
> 
> We've all put a ton of work into this, and we really hope you enjoy it as much as we enjoy writing it!  
> -

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “𝘞𝘦 𝘯𝘦𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘰….𝘥𝘪𝘴𝘤𝘶𝘴𝘴.” 𝘗𝘩𝘪𝘭𝘻𝘢 𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘳𝘵𝘴. "“𝘞𝘦 𝘯𝘦𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘰… 𝘮𝘦𝘯𝘥. 𝘏𝘦𝘢𝘭. 𝘈𝘯𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘣𝘦𝘴𝘵 𝘸𝘢𝘺 𝘵𝘰 𝘥𝘰 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘪𝘴 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘦𝘢𝘤𝘩 𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳."  
> (it doesn't go well.)
> 
> [CONTENT WARNINGS FOR CH. 1:]
> 
> \--canon-compliant language and themes of violence  
> \--suicidal ideation  
> \--emetophobia (and kind of some gross things that go along with it...Wilbur ain't too hot).  
> \--child / parental tension  
> \--sibling / sibling tension  
> \--implied bad parenting (past) 
> 
> [chapter title lyrics from amanda palmer's runs in the family]!

_ **Tubbo is online** _

> **Tubbo**

hello 

i’m tapping my mic right now 

can anyone hear me 

_ **TommyInnit is online** _

> **Tommyinnit**

jesus fucking christ

_ **>** **Technoblade is online** _

> **Tubbo**

i am not tapping my mic anymore 

> **Technoblade**

Chat wont stop telling me to look at my phone whats going on 

> **Tubbo**

what the fuck happened what is happening 

> **TommyInnit**

thats an amazing question tubbo 

> **Technoblade**

Wilbur blew up Manberg is what’s happening do you two have eyes 

> **TommyInnit**

shut the fuck up you stupid bitch

i hate you 

> **Tubbo**

yes i do have eyes

why did wilbur blow up manberg?

> **TommyInnit**

i don’t know.

> **Technoblade**

Do _not_ talk to me like that you little shit 

> **TommyInnit**

WHAT ARE YOU GONNA DO ABOUT IT FUCKER

FUCK YOU!!!

> **Tubbo**

i think that if anyone is a little shit today it’s probably not tommy

> **Technoblade**

I’ve got PLENTY MORE SOUL SAND RIGHT HERE TOMMY 

> **TommyInnit**

YOU FUCKING WOULDNT

YOU DONT HAVE A HEART 

YOURE A TERRIBLE PERSON YOU BITCH 

> **Technoblade**

YES I AM AND YES I WOULD

> **TommyInnit**

ILL KILL YOU

> **Technoblade**

NOT IF I KILL YOU FIRST

> **Tubbo**

stop the violence 

_**Ph1LzA is online** _

> **Ph1LzA**

What the fuck is going on?

Stop fucking fighting.

> **Technoblade**

Chat told me it was very urgent that I check _this_ chat instead of killing Tommy but were just fighting now 

Philza what the fuck is going on 

> **Ph1LzA**

Stop fighting. I’ve got Wilbur and we’re going back to my place. The four of us.

> **Technoblade**

Like hell we’re not 

> **Ph1LzA**

Like hell we ARE. Don’t be stubborn. Let’s go.

.

> **Tubbo**

i think you should go 

dad’s orders and all

or maybe you only listen to my dad techno :)

> **TommyInnit**

TELL EM TUBBO!!!!!!

> **Tubbo**

you too tommy 

> **Technoblade**

Ok so am I gonna get attacked by three sides if I go over there or what

> **Tubbo**

three sides?

> **Technoblade**

Sorry, four, is Tubbo coming?

> **Tubbo**

i meant three like there would only be maybe two!!!!

> **Technoblade**

Philza. Tommy. Wilbur.

Im not coming if Tommy isnt coming 

**> TommyInnit**

fine ill go only if tubbo does

> **Technoblade**

Oh great! 4 sides!

> **TommyInnit**

youll be fine stop bitching 

> **Technoblade**

Ok fine 

Philza you win 

> **Ph1LzA**

Alright, now all of us let’s meet up _please._

> **Tubbo**

so its the five of us then?

where IS wilbur anyway?

> **Ph1LzA**

It is. And I have him with me.

> **Tubbo**

ok well tommy and I are on our way!!

> **TommyInnit**

:|

When Philza’s door opens, when two teenagers and his twin brother step through, Wilbur is already seated in the last place in the world he wants to be; on his father’s couch. He stares resolutely at the floor, arm held out in jaw-clenching compliance while Philza bandages him up, and thinks. 

He should have died there, with L'Manberg. He should have died there, after Schlatt was already gone and wouldn't be able to claim Wilbur's death a victory. He should have died there, not be sitting here in Philza's home while the man who gave him life tries to play full house with the ghosts of the children he knew years before.

The plan had been perfect; he and Techno, together again after all this time, fighting for the same side for once in their damn lives. He hadn't expected Tommy to deny presidency, give it to him; he'd expected Tubbo to get it immediately, and when Tommy went off of Wilbur's mental track he'd had to improvise. It didn't matter if it didn't make sense for him to name Tubbo president; it didn't matter, because what came after would make nothing matter. The last of Schlatt's legacy would die with Tubbo, Tommy would manage to come out unscathed somehow and be lauded a true hero, and Wilbur would be six feet under with the only man he'd ever loved enough to hate.

But instead, Philza. Philza had gone off plan, too. Philza had shown too much care much too late, and Wilbur had been too weak to refuse him. He'd wanted Philza's approval for so long, had wanted an ounce of attention at any time other than when he was ruining his own life, that seeing the disappointment and sadness written all over his face had been too much for Wilbur to ignore.

He doesn't meet anyone's eyes as they come through the door; Philza stands, dropping the gauze enough to loosen it, and Wilbur has to choke back a hysterical laugh. Philza "loves" him enough to want to fix things, but in the end Techno is his true pride and joy; and Tommy must not be too far after, considering everything he's managed to pull off at such a young age. Philza "loves" him enough to want a happy family ending, but not enough to give Wilbur undivided medical attention (Not that he wants it).

Both of Wilbur’s siblings are staring straight at him. “Wilbur.” Techno says in simple greeting; He glances at him as soon as his eyes are off his father and onto him, and it must be the wrong time, but something in the shift of his face and the raise of his brows has a knot in Wilbur's chest loosening; but he thinks _it could have always been like this, it should have always been like this, the two of us against everything_ and it catches on another, the net around his heart full of holes too small to breathe from. Jaw set, he looks to Tommy instead. 

  
  


Tommy just stares at him with wide eyes, lips trembling. Wilbur knows the look on his face, but the fury twisting and thrashing in his gut won't allow him to approach; he can't take his little brother into his arms, can't shield him from the world, can't get him involved in wacky ~~slightly illegal~~ hijinks that will keep him far away from people like Dream and his team of racketeers. Here, now, in this house that isn't a home, with singed wings tucked against his back and scrapes along his body from flying debris. 

“We need to….discuss.” Philza starts before Techno, Tommy, and Tubbo are even fully through the door. “I know I’ve been a shit father. There’s no sugarcoating it. I’ve been absent, dismissive. I have no excuse.” Wilbur notices his eyes flit to Techno and Tommy, but not to him. He’s not surprised.

“We need to… mend. Heal. And the best way to do that is with each other. I know recent events are going to make that difficult. But…” Phil sighs, glancing back at Wilbur, as if he’s a father who needs to check if his baby boy is okay, before turning his attention back to the other two. “But we need to just… confer. Speak with each other,” he added, keeping his eyes on the other three.

Wilbur can't help it, this time; a laugh bubbles up from his chest and out of his throat, hotter than blood and wetter than tears. It sounds like half of a sob, and he drops his face to one hand as his shoulders shake with laughter, eyes oddly bright with wetness.

"Mend? Heal? With each _other_ ? I know you aren't that stupid, Philza." Not Phil. Not dad. Not now. "Tommy hates me and Techno. We all hate you. What the _fuck--"_ another laugh, face still pressed to his palm and elbow still rested on his knee despite the blood seeping through his clothes, "are you _on_ ? You think we're going to sit here and fucking _speak_ and everything's just going to _be better?_ Fuck you. Fuck you."

"We all _hate you._ " Techno bounces off his twin's words, his face turning into a proper snarl. Wilbur feels a flicker of pride that he tries to admonish; Techno hates him, and he hates Techno. "We're supposed to sit here and kum bay-ah?" He growls, then, his notched ears flicking forwards once. "Where have you been? Where the _fuck_ have _you been?_ " He bristles, the fur on his cape standing up with the ridge of his shoulders. "Yeah. Yeah, you _have_ been a shit father. Absent? Dismissive? You wanna talk absent and dismissive?" 

Suddenly, Tommy is wrenched away from his Tubbo and held close to Techno’s chest, which is rising and falling sporadically. Tommy yelps, obviously in the throes of panic, and reaches for Tubbo’s hand. It’s a flurry of limbs as Tubbo shoves Techno and Tommy reaches for Tubbo, and Tubbo is shouting too, but it can’t be heard over the rage of The Blood God. "Don't say _we're_ " a _family._ " He sneers, holding Tommy closer. " _We_ are not a family. _This_ is not your kid!" He places one hand on Tommy's shoulder; Wilbur can see the rage seeping out of his ears. " _You_ drove my brother away, you made him feel like he was _worthless,_ you placed _everything_ on me, ohhh, you made me _The Blade,_ that's what I am to you, and HE IS NOT YOUR FUCKING KID! _HE'S MY FUCKING KID!_ " 

Wilbur feels something like relief at even Techno's admission to being the favorite, but it's quickly overshadowed by bitter indignation. _Techno's kid,_ he'd claimed, but where had Techno been? Wilbur had let Tommy think he'd been off on some grand adventure instead of realizing that he, too, had left them alone like Philza. And then Techno got to swoop back in just in time during their exile, play the hero to Tommy's starstruck attentions, while Wilbur slipped further and further away. It was better, he'd told himself. He hadn't planned to live, and Tommy would need someone after he was gone. But Wilbur was still here. Tommy was afraid of him. Wilbur had almost gotten him killed. Wilbur couldn't call Tommy his kid anymore, either. All Tommy had now were three people who should have protected him that failed to.

Philza blinks, his attention stony cold. “I’m...” he begins, once the room finally manages to fall still with an eerie quiet. “I don’t know what to say. I’m sorry. I know I fucked up, but...” Another breath; Phil looks at him last, but Phil looks at him. “But I just want to help.”

There’s noise again. Tubbo has decided it his moment, his moment to shove himself between Techno and Tommy with such force that even The Blade has to let go, and Tubbo pulls Tommy to a wall behind them, shielding him from the room. "Don't _touch him!_ " Tubbo shrieks. "None of you care about Tommy," He says, his voice trembling only slightly. "You just care about yourselves and you don't care that you're all hurting him and you can _eat shit!_ " 

Were Wilbur's head on right, he may have felt impressed with Tubbo's display of gallantry. As things stand, he belts out a harsh _whoop_ of a laugh, one that hurts his chest to expel. "Fucking Christ, Philza," he manages, tears coming to his eyes as warring emotions come to a head, grin split wide on his face and tears threatening to follow now-dry tracks down his cheeks. "Fuck. Really. That apology is so shit even _Tubbo's_ calling your bullshit."

He keeps laughing, and laughing, and _laughing_ until finally his breath catches on a hiccup and all at once he's sobbing. That wetness spills back to his cheeks, unwelcome but familiar these past several weeks, and he presses a hand over his mouth in an effort that is one part a measure to muffle himself and one part to press in the bile threatening to spill from his mouth. He closes his eyes, bends at the waist to press his forehead to his knees as his shoulders shake. 

Something about Tubbo’s display seems to have gotten to his twin, because the characteristic cold stare in his eyes is fading. He compresses and holsters his trident, holds his arms above his head in grumpy defeat, and _finally_ sits on the couch, opposite his twin and Philza. "Wil." He says, and through the comfort attempted in his voice, Wilbur can detect a warning; his voice sounds more bitter and dry than anything else, but at least it's soft. "Just..." He buries his head in his hand. "You got any _bright ideas_ on _startin_ , Phil?"

Tommy, it appears, won’t let Phil get them out. Wilbur watches him, from the crack in between his knees, wrench himself out of Tubbo’s grip and shakily get to his feet, walking his way.

“Wil,” Tommy hisses, glaring down at him, his nickname a hiss from between teeth that have praised and cursed him in equal measure. If Tommy had said it any softer, had said it with any reverence, had said it as anything other than hard and quick and angry, Wilbur would have ignored him too.

Wilbur looks up.

Tommy takes a breath.

And then, Wilbur’s head snaps to the side with the force of being hit in the face as hard as a sixteen year old can muster His neck jerks hard enough that he distantly notes he might have whiplash; his teeth clack together with a noise that seems deafening, biting into the side of his tongue hard enough to draw blood. Bile has spit onto the floor and his pants, chin slimy with it; a tooth follows, clattering to the floor and landing in a pile of the mucus.

Techno is on top of his baby brother in a moment, and suddenly Tubbo is between the two of them, arms wrapping around his side to keep him secure. This doesn’t stop Tommy, who continues to scream, wrestling free of their grip. “How _could_ you?!” He sobs, clawing out for his brother. “I trusted you! I loved you, and you—you ruined _everything_ ! I was _there_ for you!” Tommy screams, tears beginning to run down his cheeks.

Wilbur replies to Tommy's questions, but only in his head. _How could you?_ **How couldn't I?** _I trusted you!_ **You should have been able to.** _I loved you--_ **You shouldn't have.** _and you ruined everything!_ **I did.** _I was there for you!_ **You shouldn't have had to be.** What Wilbur says instead, leaning forward with a leer on his face, is simply, "Do it again."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [philza interrupts techno's shit-wrecking post lmanberg explosion by summoning him, tommy, and tubbo to his house. he gathers the family, including wilbur, who he has refused to kill, to "mend" and "heal". it does not go well. tensions erupt, the siblings hate eachother and phil, techno claims tommy as his own son, and tubbo tells all of them to eat shit. tommy punches wilbur in the face, and wilbur asks him to do it again.]
> 
> Comment fishing time! If you guys are enjoying this so far, we would all love some feedback!


	2. they left us alone, the kids in the dark

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 𝘏𝘦'𝘴 𝘸𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘥 𝘵𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘦𝘯𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩 𝘩𝘦 𝘧𝘦𝘦𝘭𝘴 𝘩𝘦 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘴𝘱𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘢𝘵 𝘢𝘯𝘺 𝘴𝘦𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘥; 𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥𝘯'𝘵 𝘣𝘦 𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘴𝘦 𝘱𝘦𝘰𝘱𝘭𝘦, 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘳𝘦𝘭𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘷𝘦𝘴 𝘩𝘦 𝘩𝘢𝘴 𝘯𝘰 𝘳𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘵𝘰 𝘤𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘧𝘢𝘮𝘪𝘭𝘺, 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘺𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘩𝘦'𝘴 𝘭𝘦𝘵 𝘥𝘰𝘸𝘯. 𝘈 𝘴𝘶𝘥𝘥𝘦𝘯 𝘤𝘭𝘢𝘳𝘪𝘵𝘺 𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘴 𝘵𝘰 𝘩𝘪𝘮, 𝘢 𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘩𝘦 𝘩𝘢𝘥𝘯'𝘵 𝘥𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘱𝘶𝘵 𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘰 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘥𝘴, 𝘶𝘯𝘵𝘪𝘭 𝘯𝘰𝘸. "𝘐 𝘸𝘢𝘯𝘵 𝘵𝘰 𝘥𝘪𝘦," 𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘢𝘺𝘴, 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘩𝘰𝘭𝘭𝘰𝘸 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘭𝘪𝘻𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [you're sad about tommy, i'm sad about tommy, here's a fic where phil doesn't kill wilbur.]
> 
> [CONTENT WARNINGS FOR CH. 2:]  
> \--canon-compliant language and themes of violence  
> \--strong suicidal ideation  
> \--cont. emetophobia (and kind of some gross things that go along with it...Wilbur ain't doin’ too hot).  
> \--child / parental tension  
> \--sibling / sibling tension  
> \--implied bad/neglectful parenting (past)  
> \--near-death experience / faking death.
> 
> [chapter title lyrics from all time low’s kids in the dark!]

"I'm the _villain,_ Tommy! Don't you fucking see? Don't you get it?"

Wilbur Soot, understandably so, had been having kind of a shitty day.

If anything, it was a train of unexpected outcomes. He hadn’t expected to be dragged here, he hadn’t expected to be sitting shoulder-to-shoulder on a faded couch with the man who had failed to raise him, he hadn’t been expecting to be facing off against brothers who felt like strangers. He hadn’t expected to be _punched,_ but he couldn’t say that was as unpleasant a surprise as the other things.

Wilbur laughs, again, but it's bitter this time, and mostly because that seems to be what set Tommy off the first time. "I make everything bad! I poison the things that I _touch_!" Cliche, but he's too wrapped up in everything to care. _You either die a hero, or live long enough to see yourself become a villain._ "I should have died there! I shouldn't be sitting here!" He leans forward, his words ripping violently from his throat with no hope of stopping, expression vicious and features twisted. "Philza should have fucking killed me for what I did, Tommy! That was the plan! That was my plan, he just didn't fucking _follow it!"_

He's wound tight enough he feels he could spring at any second; he shouldn't be here with these people, the relatives he has no right to call family, everyone he's let down. A sudden clarity comes to him, a thought he hadn't dare put into words, until now. "I want to die," he says, with hollow realization; pushes his bile-covered hand, now cold, up through his hair and leaves it streaked with gall as he lets out another laugh, this one almost disbelieving. "God, how I want to fucking die."

Tommy inhales a breath through his teeth. His hands tremble against Tubbo’s arms. “ _I hate you,”_ he says. 

“I know. You should.”

Phil tries next, goddamn his soul. “Wil, I’m…” Wilbur hears his voice trail off, hears him swallow with some modicum of difficulty. He doesn’t care much for what Phil is about to say, so he tunes it half-out when he says. “I’m so sorry,” 

“Fuck off.”

_“Hey.”_ Wilbur’s head snaps up, and his eyes trail to his twin, evidently trying to get his two cents in. His hands are above his head as if showing he’s not going to punch him too (It would no doubt hurt more than Tommy’s did. Wilbur wouldn’t care either way.)

Techno sits down next to him, and it's oppressive, his absentee Philza on one side and his absentee Techno on the other. Techno’s voice drops. “I know.” He mumbles, his eyes going to his feet. “I know, Wil.”

Even after all this time, Wilbur knows Techno and he knows what he must be thinking; not good enough, not comforting enough. The truth is, it's the best thing Wilbur has heard all day. No denial; no pleading for him not to say it. Just a quiet acknowledgement that has Wilbur crumpling in on himself, making himself as small as possible with his arms wrapped around his middle and bloodshot eyes on the ground. He's still hiccuping every now and then, but the tears are slowing.

Wilbur wants to say something else, something bitter and edgy and awesome, but his voice is tired, and in a deliberate move he slides to the floor, ignoring his shoe sliding in his bile. He tongues the hollow where his tooth was in his mouth a minute ago, deciding to follow what he'd planned at the beginning: stare at the floor. Don't speak. Maybe he'll be still enough to melt and sink into the floor. 

He pulls long legs up and wraps his arms around them, presses his forehead to his knees, and breathes. In; out. In.... Out. His eyes close, and with a final slump of his shoulders he stays where he is, listening. Tubbo is practically crooning at Tommy; Wilbur can’t make out what he’s saying, only that Tubbo is doing a fine job standing in as his replacement. 

Wilbur is zoning out a bit, lost in his own thoughts, and the train is only broken when he hears Techno’s voice. "You're shaking." He states, monotone, “This’ll help,” and it's with great effort that he turns his tired face to his twin in everything but looks. He hones in on Techno’s hands with some difficulty; he’s holding a folded up wad of red fabric, and Wilbur’s fried brain is unwilling to work out just what it is, until the sight of Techno's cape-bare shoulders clicks in his brain. 

"I'm dirty," he says, toneless, but Techno of anyone should know how to parse his lack of energy as not dismissal, but as regretful fact. There's nothing more he'd like than go put on his big brother's cape and disappear into its heavy folds of fabric and fur, but he's covered in blood and vomit and soot and god knows what else

As if following his lead, Phil disappears out a side door, bringing forward a set of fresh clothes. Wilbur is steadfast in ignoring it. He's survived nearly his whole life without his dad, and he's content to continue that. He'll have a couple more miserable hours here, and then he'll figure out what to do. Admitting his death wish out loud had calmed something in him, had reset gears turning in some way, and as the rust falls off he reminds himself that even if he's burned his bridge to Tommy, he still has at least one responsibility. Fundy may be an adult now, but Wilbur is still his dad and Wilbur still has things to explain and Wilbur still has one little piece of family that he needs to protect. 

He never wants to be Philza, so out of his depth with his children and fatherhood that he doesn't even fucking speak to them when they're three feet away.

“It’s seen dirt.” Techno replies, and that’s all it takes for Wilbur to be a little selfish, to reach out a shaking hand to grab the cape and wrap it around himself. It's comforting, in some weird way, despite everything; he presses his face into it and breathes in, out, in, out. He shakes his head at Techno, notes in the back of his brain that he's already broken his resolution again-- but not quite caring.

Techno tilts his head towards the clothes Phil has brought; "They look comfy, Wil. But if you really don't wanna, you can have some of mine later." 

"Don't want them," he replies, sounding as exhausted as he feels. He shuffles around until he's an even tighter ball, long and gangly limbs folding and folding until the cape covers every part of him but his head. "I need to see Fundy. Before anything. I need to make sure he's okay." He keeps his voice low. "I wasn't--" In his right mind. He's still not, but he's got something to cling to now. "He's an adult, now, but I'm still his dad. I still need to check on him." Resist the urge to look at Philza. 

“You need a shower, though.” Techno adds, giving Wilbur a little punch to the shoulder, and he nods vacantly. He lacks the energy to return Techno's smile but still manages a half shrug. 

"Before Fundy. Yeah." It's a weird normalcy between them now; less of a repaired bridge and more of a dried up stream. What separates them, anymore? "I will."

In response, Techno says “He’ll be okay,” tucks another piece of his cape-fluff further under Wilbur’s chin; he appreciates it, even if he'd never admit it. He and Techno had traded off big brother duties so often as children (even if Wilbur suspected that Techno had only humored him, taking their five minute age difference very seriously) that it feels like-- not like coming home, exactly. But coming back to somewhere familiar, when it's been long enough that you think you'll have forgotten everything. 

“I know he will.” Of course he will; Fundy is resourceful and smart and _good,_ even if a little naive at times. 

“You’re his dad. You’re a _good_ dad.” Techno adds, and Wilbur can't help the snort that leaves him at the remark; his eyes flick to Tommy briefly, to Techno's even briefer, and then back to the floor. 

"I'm not," he replies flatly. "We don't need to sugarcoat it. I'm not cut out for it." If Wilbur were a good dad, there would not be a throb in his cheek right now. If Wilbur were a good dad, Fundy would be with him now instead of left behind as Philza led him, hysteric, to his home. If Wilbur were a good dad, then Schlatt would have been nothing but a piece of history and Tubbo would have been Tommy's brother, because Wilbur would have fought to take him, too. 

“Yeah, well.” Techno says, staring ahead. “Neither was I.” A pause. “Am I. And he turned out alright,” he added, tilting his head towards where Tommy was seated. “And Fundy’s a good kid.” Another pause. “Let me go home with you.”

"Fine." It's not grumpy, or grating; it's spoken simply. It truly is fine. Wilbur doesn't care either way. He allows himself ten more seconds wrapped up in the cape before straightening and then standing; he turns to see Philza in the kitchen doorway, and addresses him directly for what he expects to be one of the last times.

"Do you have anything useful to say, or did you just hope that having us all here would make us fall over our feet for your attention?" His voice is cutting; a defense, and they all know it, but he'll cling to his snark for the rest of his life.

Wilbur catches word of something Tubbo is whispering to Tommy; _We’ll figure it out together._ Nothing good ever comes after those words; they leave a bad taste in his mouth. 

“Well, of course I have some things to say, I just...” Phil’s voice trails off. “I just want to give you guys some time with each other without me intervening first. I know today was... hectic for all of us, so...” Phil takes a quick breath, glances away, and doesn’t seem adamant to finish his sentence. 

Philza's words manage to make him angrier; the net around his heart can't contain the thorns pushing and cutting against the rope, and all his worries and doubts are replaced by choking anger that stabs and suffocates anyone who touches him-- including himself. 

"Give us time with each other. You want to give us time with each other." Another incredulous laugh chokes out from his throat, voice bordering on hysteria again, but he keeps himself focused by thinking of his beacon: Fundy. "Of course you want to give us time with each other. What'll it be this time, Philza? Another ten years of time with each other? Another twenty?" His wings are flicking against his back in irritation; too small to fly, too big to ignore. Wilbur had spent far too much time wondering if he would have been the favorite if he had wings as grand as his father's. 

Shaking his head angrily, Wilbur steps toward the front door; Techno will see to Tommy, he's sure, whether that means forcing him to leave Philza's or waiting until he does on his own. Or maybe that isn't what Techno will do. Wilbur doesn't know him well enough anymore, not like when they were kids. Either way, Wilbur hopes Techno will follow him, eventually. 

“I just find it funny," Wilbur says, tone little more than a bite as he wrenches open the front door, "that I've spent the last 15 years just fine paying attention to my own son, but the second you decide to get involved again I've left him _alone._ You must be contagious." He slams the door behind him without waiting for an answer. 

It's time to face the music.

  
  
\--

**[** **@Jschlatt > @Quackity ] **Quackity.

**[ @Quackity > @Jschlatt ] **what the fuck. how are you texting me

**[** **@Jschlatt > @Quackity ] **With my phone?

**[ @Quackity > @Jschlatt ]** i know that, asshole. how the fuck are you alive?

**[ @Jschlatt** ** > @Quackity ] **I’m good. 

**[ @Quackity > @Jschlatt ]** you died. i thought you died

**[** **@Jschlatt > @Quackity ]** I'm _good._

 **[** **@Jschlatt > @Quackity ] **Intelligent. Talented. Optimally skilled. Whatever word you wish!

**[ @Quackity > @Jschlatt ] **how the fuck. okay. what. where are you?

**[** **@Jschlatt > @Quackity ] **I'm at my dear friend Fundy's house.

 **[ @Jschlatt** ** > @Quackity ] **Just plannin’ to chat it up with an old friend. Don't you sweat your pretty little face.

**[ @Quackity > @Jschlatt ] **i'm not worried about you. but... can i come by? 

**[** **@Jschlatt > @Quackity ]**

 **[** **@Jschlatt > @Quackity ] **

**[ @Jschlatt** ** > @Quackity ] ** Sure. 

**[ @Quackity > @Jschlatt ] **on my way.

**[** **@Jschlatt > @Quackity] **👋 !

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [ 𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘚𝘭𝘦𝘦𝘱𝘺 𝘉𝘰𝘺𝘴 𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘶𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘵𝘳𝘺 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘮𝘶𝘯𝘪𝘤𝘢𝘵𝘦, 𝘱𝘰𝘰𝘳𝘭𝘺. 𝘞𝘪𝘭𝘣𝘶𝘳 𝘦𝘹𝘱𝘳𝘦𝘴𝘴𝘦𝘴 𝘢 𝘥𝘦𝘴𝘪𝘳𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘥𝘪𝘦. 𝘛𝘦𝘤𝘩𝘯𝘰 𝘴𝘩𝘰𝘸𝘴 𝘶𝘯𝘥𝘦𝘳𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘯𝘥𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘰𝘧𝘧𝘦𝘳𝘴 𝘞𝘪𝘭𝘣𝘶𝘳 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘤𝘢𝘱𝘦, 𝘸𝘩𝘪𝘤𝘩 𝘩𝘦 𝘵𝘢𝘬𝘦𝘴 𝘥𝘦𝘴𝘱𝘪𝘵𝘦 𝘣𝘦𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘥𝘪𝘳𝘵𝘺. 𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘵𝘸𝘪𝘯𝘴 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘢 𝘧𝘦𝘸 𝘮𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘴 𝘰𝘧 𝘣𝘰𝘯𝘥𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘣𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘤𝘩𝘦𝘥 𝘶𝘯𝘥𝘦𝘳𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘯𝘥𝘪𝘯𝘨; 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘢𝘮𝘦 𝘣𝘳𝘪𝘥𝘨𝘦 𝘪𝘴 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘤𝘳𝘰𝘴𝘴𝘦𝘥 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘗𝘩𝘪𝘭. 𝘞𝘪𝘭𝘣𝘶𝘳 𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘷𝘦𝘴 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘍𝘶𝘯𝘥𝘺’𝘴 𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘴𝘦 𝘶𝘯𝘥𝘦𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘢𝘴𝘴𝘶𝘮𝘱𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘛𝘦𝘤𝘩𝘯𝘰 𝘸𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘧𝘰𝘭𝘭𝘰𝘸.
> 
> 𝘔𝘦𝘢𝘯𝘸𝘩𝘪𝘭𝘦, 𝘚𝘤𝘩𝘭𝘢𝘵𝘵 𝘵𝘦𝘹𝘵𝘴 𝘘𝘶𝘢𝘤𝘬𝘪𝘵𝘺 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘩𝘦 𝘪𝘴 𝘢𝘭𝘪𝘷𝘦 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘸𝘢𝘪𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘞𝘪𝘭𝘣𝘶𝘳 𝘢𝘵 𝘍𝘶𝘯𝘥𝘺’𝘴 𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘴𝘦. 𝘘𝘶𝘢𝘤𝘬𝘪𝘵𝘺 𝘪𝘴 𝘰𝘯 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘸𝘢𝘺.]
> 
> Comment fishing time!!! We love hearing from you guys, and it really gives us support to keep writing! <3


	3. good old fashioned loverboy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ".... 𝘐𝘵'𝘴 𝘢 𝘳𝘦𝘮𝘪𝘯𝘥𝘦𝘳," 𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘢𝘺𝘴 𝘧𝘪𝘯𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘺, 𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘥𝘰𝘸𝘯 𝘢𝘵 𝘪𝘵. 𝘐𝘵 𝘨𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘴 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘭𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘴𝘵𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘮𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘩𝘳𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘪𝘯𝘥𝘰𝘸𝘴, 𝘵𝘩𝘳𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘤𝘳𝘢𝘤𝘬𝘴 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘴 𝘣𝘭𝘰𝘤𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘰𝘱𝘦𝘯 𝘩𝘢𝘭𝘧 𝘰𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘊𝘢𝘮𝘢𝘳𝘢𝘷𝘢𝘯. "𝘈𝘯𝘥 𝘢 𝘸𝘢𝘳𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tommy's back from the dead, wilbur's coming back from the dead, we're both sad. heres a fic where neither of them die in the first place.
> 
> [CONTENT WARNINGS FOR CH.3]
> 
> \--canon-compliant language and themes of violence  
> \--sibling / sibling tension  
> \--near-death experience / faking death  
> \--themes of self-destruction  
> \--alcoholism / alcohol abuse
> 
> [ch. title from the iconic queen song. enjoy!]

"Wilbur-- 

"Wil-- 

"Wilbur--

_"Wait_ \--"

Wilbur isn't aware of himself enough to realize for several minutes that he's being followed; as he walks, though, the feeling of eyes on his back grows heavier and heavier, until he finally whips around. His shoulders relax when he sees it's just Techno, not too far behind; Wilbur waits for him to catch up a little more before turning back and walking is resolute, stony silence. He can't even yell at Techno for leaving Tommy, because he’d hoped he would, he’d practically asked him to, and because he'd done the same. 

L'Manburg's ruins slowly come into view; a few people seem to be picking around, surveying damage. Wilbur avoids them, taking the long way around until he gets to the remains of the Canaravan. It's half blown up, edges jagged and open, but the living space in the back is fairly intact. He shoves a couple of tables and chests over to cover the hole, give some semblance of privacy in the ruins of his home, gestures vaguely at the bed if Techno wants to sit.

"I'm showering." It isn't a question, and it's not really said for his twin's benefit but for his own. A reminder that he is here, and alive, and he has to figure out what to do about it. He rummages through a chest, thinking of the things he has left in Tommy's lair and Tubbo's bunker, and writes them off as gone forever. Any protests Techno makes, any conversation starters he may try, they all fall on deaf ears and Wilbur disappears into the bathroom.

Wilbur showers for much longer than he usually would, half an hour come and gone with hot water beating down on him. He only gets out because it starts to run cold and the water pressure's shit, what with so many broken pipes in the ruins. He slides his feet into worn slippers (a couple centimeters out of place, presumably shaken from the explosions), wraps a robe around himself, and pads across into his small bedroom. 

He relights his torch, opens his chest to pull out clothes, and though any other time in the world to feel this sensation would be preferred, his fingers hit something hard and velvety. He stills, entire body tense; but it flows from him like water, leaving behind a slumped man who hasn't eaten right in months, mere skin stretched over slowly atrophying muscles and bones that jut out of him like a gangly teenager. 

It's a shaking hand that lifts the box to be seen by the light, a box he hasn't done more than glance at for the past seven years. He cups it in one palm, and after a moment uses his thumb to flip the top open. The engagement ring lays inside, just as sparkly as it had been when Wilbur had found it at 22, and he feels his lower lip wobble for a moment, lowers his head and closes his eyes.

After a few seconds, he places the box on his bed and goes through the motions; head and arms through shirt holes, sweater on top, beanie over his hair and jeans zipped and buttoned. Socks, boots, and then hood adjusted. In the end, he turns and stares back to his bed, to the open box. Mocking him. _Here's a reminder of the life you could have had. Here's a reminder of the man you could have been. Here's a reminder of the family you could have made._

His hand still shakes as he reaches toward the box, plucks the ring from the cage of velvet that has held it for more than half a decade. A second shaking hand comes up, and Wilbur slides the cold metal onto the ring finger of his left hand. It's loose; he's underweight. But it still fits enough not to fall off just yet, enough that he takes it as a sign.

Wilbur will wear the ring; not for sentiment, but as a reminder. A punishment. A warning. _You can never let yourself get caught up like this again, Wilbur,_ Philza had once said, and if he'd been right about anything it was that. But Wilbur had gotten caught up anyway, had played into Schlatt's hands and put Tommy in danger from-- everyone, really. But most disgustingly, himself. 

The box is tossed back into his chest, and he emerges with still damp hair, emerges to stare at Techno while Techno stares at him and neither of them look each other in the eyes. His arms are crossed, ringed hand bare and contrasting against his dark sweater. The bags under his eyes are much more pronounced now that his skin is clean and pale; he'd looked sickly in his reflection in the window. 

"...You okay?"

".... That's such a stupid question, Tech," he says, but his tone is more subdued and exhausted than the bite he'd thrown Philza's way. He wipes a hand down his face, across his mouth. "No," he adds, as if it weren't already brilliantly obvious, and gives a chuckle that holds no humor. "Are you?"

“I’m alright.” Techno says softly. His eyes trail to Wilbur’s left hand. He hides a snicker, though Wilbur tenses at him noticing. “What’s that?”

Wilbur rubs his thumb against the inside of his elbow to relax. Self soothing behaviors, however small. He blinks once, twice at Techno's question, rolls his words around his mouth to decide what to say.

".... It's a reminder," he says finally, staring down at it. It glints in the light streaming through the windows, through the cracks in the things blocking the open half of the Camaravan. "And a warning." He clenches his fist, watches the ring move with his movement.

Wilbur notes, with wild chagrin, that Techno may think he means it's a warning for others. But it's only a warning for himself, and so Techno doesn't need to know. He sits with these thoughts a few moments before coming back to himself and shooting Techno a look. He then decides to continue the conversation, as if the ring had never stopped it. "Cleaning off ten layers of grime really improves the look, you know? Help me pack, I'm going to find Fundy." Brisk and down to business, he turns around abruptly to rifle through chests and shove various things into a satchel.

Techno hands over various things, supplies. Wilbur accepts them with minimal movement, minimal effort. He thinks about refusing the food Techno holds out for him (when will he have time to eat?) but then thinks of Fundy and decides it's a good idea, just in case. The scarf he’s handed with a degree of gentleness more than he deserves gets thrown around his neck, haphazard.

For all of his usual verbosity, words have finally left Wilbur. 

Techno asks if Wilbur wants him to wait for him, and he waits long enough after that it could be assumed he was ignoring his twin, but he's really just processing. "Do what you want," he says finally, double checking the satchel before flipping the flap down and standing, rolling his shoulders. "You should have stayed with Tommy," he adds, but there's no accusation there; it's simple, flat fact. 

He walks to the hole of the van, pushes a couple of things aside to slide through a hole-- but before he does, he glances back at Techno, really looks him over finally. "Thanks.”

A beat.

"Why did you kill Tubbo?" 

“Peer pressure.”

Wilbur wonders, momentarily, if the voices within Techno’s head are anything like the poisonous tongues in his own, ones that wrap around his throat and brain and heart and tell him that he is not enough, never enough, and that there is no sense in trying when all he has to show after eight years is a house that Philza has put on the market for him, a baby brother who hates him, and a tiny mark on his side from the sword that should’ve killed him. 

_Peer pressure,_ Techno says, and Wilbur understands it all at once. A tension he didn't know he was holding leaves his shoulders, and he offers Techno a nod. Holds out a hand for a fist bump. "Try not to get peer pressured into offing anyone else, Tech," he offers, and then he's out into the ruins. He skirts around people, stays quiet so they won't see him; he can't handle questions right now, for several reasons, but most notably because he has a son to find. 

The most obvious choice is Fundy's house, so Wilbur goes there first. He walks with some trepidation up the steps, hesitates only a second before rapping his right knuckles at the door and then pushing it open as he speaks. "Fundy, it's dad," he calls out, left hand clutching the strap of his satchel as he steps through the doorway-- 

And stops.

And stares. 

And hears the distinct _crack_ of his heart for what must be the third time today alone. 

"What-- what the fuck?"

To say that Wilbur's heart dropped out of his ass would be an understatement. He thinks that it was followed by his lungs, his kidneys, his liver, his intestines-- all of his organs slopping onto the floor, leaving the hollow shell of his body behind.

" _Hiya,_ loverboy." 

For the first time today, Wilbur is glad to be alive-- and that thought scares him. Not because he's happy to see Schlatt, though that same yearning that always sits deep in his stomach yanks violently toward him-- but because if he'd died, then Schlatt would have won. Wilbur hadn't won by Schlatt's death, but now neither of them have won anyway, and that's something that can push him to action again.

Schlatt takes a step closer to him, practically shoving aside Fundy, who had stepped in front of him as a shield, to put both his hands on his shoulders, and Wilbur feels a bubble of anger grow until it snaps. "Just thought I'd stop by for a little _chat._ " He says with a little smirk, swirling around the contents of the flask in his right hand. " _Surely_ ," he adds as he withdraws it from his lips, "You didn't think I'd go down that easily. I simply couldn't be around for the commotion, darling. Too messy." He shoves the flask back into his jacket pocket and makes his way to a window, looking out on the ruins of Manberg. "But I'm here now! Welcome _back,_ Wilbur! Seems like you've made a _mess_ of my beautiful kingdom. But no matter. Your gracious president is here, and we will _rise_ from the ashes.” 

"Do not," Wilbur says simply in response, as his eyes flash and his voice fills with venom, "touch my son." 

He shrugs off Schlatt's grip, and his height makes it just one step to be in front of Fundy, to have his son safe at his back between the wall and the bogeyman. "Do you think anyone's forgotten anything you've done? Or what you said to Fundy, before faking your death?" He throws out a hand, his left, not that it matters. 

"You're not the ruler of L'Manberg anymore," Wilbur says, voice confident and unwavering for the first time today. "No one follows you anymore. There's a new president." 

Wilbur feels many things toward Schlatt, but without Tommy hanging in the balance he's not someone that Wilbur is afraid of--

But then Schlatt goes on; "Don't think I've forgotten about you two getting the _fuck_ out of my kingdom, either." He says, his mouth curling up into a dangerous sneer as he points to the couch behind him. "Sit, _sit._ We can have a little chat about your exile! Your brother should be on his way soon! Don't _worry,_ I've sent someone to retrieve him."

But no, Tommy _is_ hanging in the balance, Wilbur realizes, with Schlatt's last words. "Tommy's somewhere safe," he says evenly as he tugs out his phone. Philza may be absentee, but Wilbur knows he'd die before letting someone hurt Tommy.

"Sure, sure." Schlatt replies, dismissive, to Wilbur's insistence that Tommy is safe. Nowhere is safe, not from the God of the SMP. And then his eyes flick from his own hand to Wilbur's, and Wilbur’s mouth curls along with Schlatt’s cruel smile as he decides to acknowledge the obvious. "Wilbur, _loverboy,_ I know you're still _desperately_ attached to what we had, but it's _over._ " His smile turns into a sneer. "Over with the trends, the changing flows of democracy, the people who I know will stand by me. _Other_ followers." His eyes flick towards the door. Eyebrows raise. 

"Right on cue."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> in this chapter, we coded it so that you will leave comments and maybe some kudos.


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